Posts
I am pleased to announce that today I was a member of a crack team involved in translating innovative local government policy:
Public policy from Muang district group
The creative policy is:
1. Do not drink soft drinks, including Pepsi and Coca Cola.
2. Do not add extra sugar to food.
3. Do not eat junk food.
4. The Health Ministry advises children to eat fruit every day.
5. Exercise for good health.
The Health and Education Ministries needs help from all Thai people for healthy children.
Children should not eat junk food. Not quite the caliber I was expecting from a lofty title like creative policy.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Monday, February 15, 2010
A Dog of High Intelligence, a Dog With Eyebrows
The Buddha is a big softy, and because he frowns upon killing them, stray dogs are a nuisance in Thailand. They hang around every Soi, or street, cheerfully knocking over rubbish bins, fornicating, chasing motorcyclist, and occasionally catching them.
If that’s not enough reason to buy a pistol, street dogs are not much to look at either. Nothing like going out for a game of tennis and spying an emaciated, mange ridden street dog that has a tail that looks like an old wrinkly sausage and a single tuft of filthy hair limping about a sand pile littered with feces.
The learning curve to life as a street dog is fairly simple. If you’re a dumb street dog, you’ve already been hit by a car and are stone dead. If you are a street dog of average intelligence, you have already been hit by a car, but perhaps you’ve survived to enjoy a life of limping around feebly on the brink of starvation. If you are a street dog of high intelligence you may look like this.
Fat and happy, sleeping outside of a 7/11, you have even convinced someone to put your make up on for you…
If that’s not enough reason to buy a pistol, street dogs are not much to look at either. Nothing like going out for a game of tennis and spying an emaciated, mange ridden street dog that has a tail that looks like an old wrinkly sausage and a single tuft of filthy hair limping about a sand pile littered with feces.
The learning curve to life as a street dog is fairly simple. If you’re a dumb street dog, you’ve already been hit by a car and are stone dead. If you are a street dog of average intelligence, you have already been hit by a car, but perhaps you’ve survived to enjoy a life of limping around feebly on the brink of starvation. If you are a street dog of high intelligence you may look like this.
Fat and happy, sleeping outside of a 7/11, you have even convinced someone to put your make up on for you…
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
To P.E. or Not to Be
I co-teach physical education to grade 1 and 2. When I started two years ago we had two footballs and three basketballs. Back then, we were not allowed to use the big open field in front of school. The director had just spent a large sum of money having new grass planted, and he wasn’t about to have it used by the students.
We were fairly creative in those days so we found other places to conduct our activities. Places like the school auditorium or the outdoor basketball court which had no hoops and had been converted into a storage area for old tables and chairs. In times of desperation we used the access roads for relays, stopping the race for the occasional truck or car.
Two years later and we are down to one football, and as of today it’s missing. The field in front of school is barren of grass along the edges and the last bastion of yellowish grass is making a heroic stand against a merciless sun. Only Ajarn Franco is creative with his activities, and even he can’t be asked most of the time, and as for Ajarn Carlsberg and me, well, we’ve played football for the entire year.
We were fairly creative in those days so we found other places to conduct our activities. Places like the school auditorium or the outdoor basketball court which had no hoops and had been converted into a storage area for old tables and chairs. In times of desperation we used the access roads for relays, stopping the race for the occasional truck or car.
Two years later and we are down to one football, and as of today it’s missing. The field in front of school is barren of grass along the edges and the last bastion of yellowish grass is making a heroic stand against a merciless sun. Only Ajarn Franco is creative with his activities, and even he can’t be asked most of the time, and as for Ajarn Carlsberg and me, well, we’ve played football for the entire year.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Downward Momentum and Predatory Instinct of the Sixth Grade
The Thai school year breaks for summer in about a month, and teaching momentum is not so much grinding to a halt as it is coasting to a gentle stop.
Kru Kiat is normally one of my favorite Thai teachers. Although our conversations are limited by my meager command of the Thai language she is always polite, punctual, and commands respect. She is also one of the few Thai teachers I have seen that is willing to exert the effort required to control my P-6 class.
The students in p-6 are amongst the oldest and biggest in the school, and seem to believe this grants them special immunity from normal school rules. They can easily transition from a normal class of students into a rioting mob at the first sign of teacher weakness.
Today Kru Kiat casually entered her P-6 math class 10 minutes late. She sat down, opened the book and started talking at the students as they completed their assignments. I stayed in the classroom and wasted time on the internet while pretending to do work.
Ten minutes into class her cell phone rang and she stepped outside to take the call. I watched on from my desk as the students quickly began flagrantly copying each others work. A few of the boys got out of their chairs and began wondering around. The mob consciousness was probing for weakness.
Kru Kiat finished her call and returned to the room, and a degree of order was restored, but in a reduced capacity. The students were talking quietly to each other now, and some had simply closed their math books and stopped working altogether.
I looked over at Kru Kiat to gauge her reaction but she was preoccupied with her digital camera. She was clearly scrolling through her memory card looking at pictures. She kept at it for awhile and the students became more rambunctious.
With ten minutes left in the class period, Kru Kiat, still in her chair, was showing her pictures to a small crowd of students. The rest of the class was completely out of control. Jumping around, standing on chairs, and chasing one another about while seemingly taking turns slapping each other as hard as they could on the back. I tried not to look and went out for a coffee.
Kru Kiat is normally one of my favorite Thai teachers. Although our conversations are limited by my meager command of the Thai language she is always polite, punctual, and commands respect. She is also one of the few Thai teachers I have seen that is willing to exert the effort required to control my P-6 class.
The students in p-6 are amongst the oldest and biggest in the school, and seem to believe this grants them special immunity from normal school rules. They can easily transition from a normal class of students into a rioting mob at the first sign of teacher weakness.
Today Kru Kiat casually entered her P-6 math class 10 minutes late. She sat down, opened the book and started talking at the students as they completed their assignments. I stayed in the classroom and wasted time on the internet while pretending to do work.
Ten minutes into class her cell phone rang and she stepped outside to take the call. I watched on from my desk as the students quickly began flagrantly copying each others work. A few of the boys got out of their chairs and began wondering around. The mob consciousness was probing for weakness.
Kru Kiat finished her call and returned to the room, and a degree of order was restored, but in a reduced capacity. The students were talking quietly to each other now, and some had simply closed their math books and stopped working altogether.
I looked over at Kru Kiat to gauge her reaction but she was preoccupied with her digital camera. She was clearly scrolling through her memory card looking at pictures. She kept at it for awhile and the students became more rambunctious.
With ten minutes left in the class period, Kru Kiat, still in her chair, was showing her pictures to a small crowd of students. The rest of the class was completely out of control. Jumping around, standing on chairs, and chasing one another about while seemingly taking turns slapping each other as hard as they could on the back. I tried not to look and went out for a coffee.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Post Apocalyptic School
It was Thursday morning, and though I didn’t know it, the entire school had been sent home. My new ally, h1n1, had made great strides in infecting the normal program population. Swine flu, it’s not just for rich kids.
I had gone to Bangkok on Wednesday to complete some paperwork, and was thus unaware of any school closure. Driving the motorcycle into the side gate, I was perplexed by the absence of students. The silence and stillness, was odd, pleasant. Post apocalyptic school.
A year ago, I would have been angry that I hadn’t been informed, but now I was merely happy to make my way to the parking lot without having to avoid suicidal 3rd graders darting in front of the bike. I signed in at the office and went to my classroom. No students yelled out,
“Hello,”
Or
“Good morning”
Or popular amongst some boys,
“Fox you.”
I wasted time on the internet and went to lunch early with Ajarn Franco and Ajarn Stolidity. A few beers and a papaya salad later I decided I didn’t really feel like going back. Instead I went home and took a nap. A good day.
I had gone to Bangkok on Wednesday to complete some paperwork, and was thus unaware of any school closure. Driving the motorcycle into the side gate, I was perplexed by the absence of students. The silence and stillness, was odd, pleasant. Post apocalyptic school.
A year ago, I would have been angry that I hadn’t been informed, but now I was merely happy to make my way to the parking lot without having to avoid suicidal 3rd graders darting in front of the bike. I signed in at the office and went to my classroom. No students yelled out,
“Hello,”
Or
“Good morning”
Or popular amongst some boys,
“Fox you.”
I wasted time on the internet and went to lunch early with Ajarn Franco and Ajarn Stolidity. A few beers and a papaya salad later I decided I didn’t really feel like going back. Instead I went home and took a nap. A good day.
Monday, February 1, 2010
H1n1 Decimates English Program. Air Conditioners held Responsible.
H1n1 has had its infectious way with the English Program, and as a result the entire EP wing has been sent packing. In the children’s wake a skeleton crew of bored and sweaty teachers, spinning around in swivel chairs to kill time between visits to facebook.
Why are the teachers sweaty? Well that is an easy one, as of today, the air conditioners have been deemed unsafe and likely to facilitate contamination of the virus. They are an enemy to public health.
However I am curious about whom this policy is meant to protect. The students are at home, either disabled by the mild effects of the virus, or chocking on snacks hastily shoved in their mouths between bouts of laughter at their good fortune.
With the students out of the equation, there are only teachers and our health conscious administrator present in the building. Often with only a single person present in a single room. We have been protected from our own germs….
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)